


At the King's Mercy

by hopefulwriter27



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-10
Updated: 2010-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulwriter27/pseuds/hopefulwriter27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uther spanks Merlin. The end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the King's Mercy

  
  
  
**Entry tags:**|   
[fanfiction](http://hopefulwriter27.livejournal.com/tag/fanfiction), [merlin](http://hopefulwriter27.livejournal.com/tag/merlin), [nc-17](http://hopefulwriter27.livejournal.com/tag/nc-17)  
  
---|---  
  
_**At the King's Mercy, NC-17**_

**Title**: At the King’s Mercy

**Pairing**: Uther/Merlin

**Rating**: NC-17

**Summary**: Uther spanks Merlin. The end.  890 words

**Author’s** **Notes**: Written for the Merlin/Uther, BDSM, dom!Uther request at

[](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/profile)[**kinkme_merlin**](http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/) 

 

Merlin attempts to twist, but the ropes tying his wrists to the ring in the stable wall are too tight. Rough hemp cuts into his skin at each turn, sending slow burning pain down his raised arms. A sharp, whistling crack screams through the air. Before he can register the sound, something cuts across his bare ass. Sharp, breath-stealing pain catches him by surprise.

                “Don’t struggle,” Uther commands. Arrogance colors his voice.

                Merlin stills. The smooth, hand-warmed, leather handle of the whip presses into the dip between his shoulder blades. The end of the long whip tickles his heels. Ever so slowly, Uther draws the handle down the middle of Merlin’s back. Merlin tries very hard not to move, but he can hear the harsh pants of Uther’s breath and feel the scorching heat of the king’s body.

                The handle stops at the low curve near the end of Merlin’s spine. Perspiration trickles down his neck, leisurely dripping its way down his body. He moves closer and Merlin feels Uther press his excitement into Merlin’s side.  Merlin shudders again.

                A sigh blows air over Merlin’s ear, and then Uther says, “I thought I told you not to move.”

                _Actually, you said ‘don’t struggle,’_ Merlin thinks, but his thought is cut off as Uther’s hand smacks down hard onto his right ass check. The king’s hand is covered with a smooth leather glove, but the smack hurts nevertheless. The hand comes down again. And again. Merlin would have cried out, but he is gasping for air to breathe. By the time Uther stops, Merlin skin is flushed, like he has a fever, and he just knew is ass is bright red. Tears are rolling down his face.

                The king moves back, and all is silent except for Merlin’s heavy wheezes. His head is hanging, chin resting against his chest. His legs are trembling in effort to keep himself standing. He wishes Arthur was here to lay a comforting arm around his shoulders. Unfortunately, it’s just the king, and the king is touching Merlin’s hair.

                Uther’s hand is spread wide, threading through Merlin’s dark locks. He lifts Merlin up. Following the king’s lead, Merlin turns to look at the older man. A faint flush, high on his cheeks, stains Uther’s skin. His breeches are tented at the groin, but otherwise, the man appeared as cold and regal as normal. With a slight frown upon his lips, Uther raises his other hand to Merlin’s face. He cups the pale skin of Merlin’s jaw and wipes away a tear with a glove-covered thumb.

                “You are very striking. I can see why Arthur keeps you around.”  The thumb travels down the sweep of Merlin’s thin cheek. It grazes over his bottom lip.

                _Arthur values me, _Merlin wants to shout. _Arthur is my friend. _Merlin says nothing. In fact, as if guided by an unseen force, Merlin parts his lips. An unholy light flickers in Uther’s eyes. His thumb slips in.  It presses down on Merlin’s tongue, and the taste of dyed leather explodes across Merlin’s taste buds.  

                “Suck,” Uther orders. Merlin does. He has to obey the king. He swirls his tongue around the smooth leather, collecting the taste. His lips close around the appendage, and he sucks until his neck begins to ache at the angle. He sucks beyond the ache.

                Finally, Uther pulls away. Merlin’s head falls back down, and he misses the way Uther stares at his spit-glistening thumb. Merlin does, however, feel Uther’s hand as it presses into the burn of his beaten ass. His breath catches in his throat as Uther pushes the wet finger into Merlin’s hole. It hurts. The leather pulls at his puckered flesh, and there isn’t enough saliva for a smooth glide in.

                “Please sir,” Merlin cries out, “please, you’ll hurt me.” His whole body trembles, and exhaustion tugs at his limbs. The finger retreats.

                “Hmm, I suppose you’re right.” Uther steps back. The action causes the king’s red cape to flutter forward and brush Merlin’s calves. Swifter than Merlin can follow, Uther pulls his sword from its sheath, the sound echoing through the stable. He swings the silver blade and slices the rope attaching Merlin’s hands to the ring. Freed from lifting his hands, Merlin plunges to the dirt ground. Sharp pieces of straw prick his skin. It doesn’t matter; relief at being free overwhelms him.

                Uther speaks, “You will meet me in my room at sundown. Bring lubricant and a length of chain.”

                Fear stutters Merlin’s heart. He turns to look at Uther. “If you are late I will have you imprisoned. Do you understand?”

                Merlin nods.

                Uther bends down and grasps Merlin’s face once more. Something besides fear shakes Merlin’s body. A cruel smile twists Uther’s lips. “Remember, a loyal servant is rewarded.”

                Merlin’s mouth dries out. He nods again. Uther’s hand leaves his face and travels down his back. Merlin’s nose comes close to the rise in Uther’s pants. He can smell the man’s arousal. Uther squeezes each of Merlin’s red cheeks then stands back up. Without another word, the king strides from the stable, leaving Merlin collapsed on the floor.

                Merlin removes the ropes from around his wrists. Bright red rings encircle each wrist, like bracelets of fire. Merlin stares at them for a long time.  

 


End file.
